Shredded Boomslang
by death-floats
Summary: A world where muggles live in fear... A once strong light drowning in Darkness... One boy with powers none can overcome, hate, regret, love and anger mixed to gether with magic leads to catastrophic results.


ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE  
  
What could happen if Harry hadn't ended up at the Dursleys?  
  
This is that story.  
  
  
  
"POTTER! GET UP NOW!" Roared a voice, wakening 13-year old Harry Potter from his dreamless slumber. Harry jumped up, pulled on his clothes and ran out the door, towards the voice. He ran down the stairs, jumping the last few, pushed through the crowd gathering at the kitchen door, which was a lot. Harry could never remember a time that had so many children at the orphanage. It had started two years ago with that weird war between the even weirder people. Wizards were what they were called, wizards.  
  
He pushed open the door and stepped in and stared at the chaos. The man, who had called him, Rod was lying on the floor, bleeding heavily. Tall men wearing black robes and masks stood around the room; wands pointed straight at him. "Thankyou, my dear man. I'm sorry to do this. Avada Kedavra!" He said, pointing his wand at Rod. Hearing those words, many people outside screamed. They knew those words. The words that had killed their parents.  
  
Harry dashed back for the door but a large, burly man grabbed him. He was roughly thrown to the floor, landing next to the corpse. He rolled over, dodging a kick from the man but ending up with Rods pitiful, open eyes in his face, once vibrant and full of life now glassy and dull. He heard some words and launched himself up, barely missing the dark red beam of light that had been aimed at him.  
  
"Cruc-" Started a voice but was interrupted by a soft clapping. Everyone turned to see the applauding person. There stood a dark haired man with scarlet eyes and a deformed nose that was more like two slits. He seemed to command a great respect among the masked men for all dropped to their knees and placed their fore heads on the ground.  
  
After this display of obedience the man spat "Fools! Can't you even capture one boy? One boy who is wandless and has no training? And you call yourself my elite!" And with that he grabbed his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Savunis!" He yelled. Harry once again managed to dodge it but was unprepared for what was to follow. As he dashed for the door he heard something growl from behind and he could feel hot breath on his neck. Slowly turning he called out in surprise just before collapsing onto the ground.  
  
  
  
1 An indeterminable time later.  
  
Harry awoke to the sound of screaming and the smell of blood, overlaid with the stench of rotting flesh and burning corpses. He looked around and saw men, women and children chained to walls. Their bodies in appalling conditions, some with their legs mangled or ripped clean off, others with half their heads crushed in with blooding seeping from the wounds at alarming rates and even others who were unrecognisable as humans because of how mutilated and burnt their bodies were.  
  
He tried to move his arms but felt pain shoot him. He looked to his left and was shocked by what he saw. In the place of his left arm were ribbons of flesh stuck in odd quantities stuck to the bone. As his horror grew he saw something was squirming. Taking a closer look he saw a bump moving around underneath what skin was left. He managed to tear the skin off without much pain and gasped at the sight that met his eyes.  
  
Tunnels were running through the meat on his arm and running through them and biting at them was a small, cockroach-like creature. However, it was neon green with blood red claws and large black eyes. He stared and then quickly grabbed it and chucked it to the ground, stomping on it and watching it blue inside squish out from under his boot. He then looked to his right and saw with relief that that arm was still attached with only a few scars marring the otherwise smooth skin.  
  
He looked up as he heard footsteps coming close. A tall man strode through the throng; he had silver-blonde hair that hung to his shoulders and a perfect, unmarred face. Beside he strode a youth of about Harry's age that looked like a carbon copy of the tall man. The two's eyes scanned the room before resting on them. They looked long and hard at him, well the man did. The teen was looking around and wrinkling his nose in disgust.  
  
"Harry Potter I presume?" Said the man striding forward. Harry just glared and said nothing. "I'll take that as a yes then." The man said before grabbing him with one arm by his collar and lifting him. While this was happen the other hand was fumbling with his pocket, searching for his wand. He finally found it and shoved it under Harry's chin. "Undaros." He muttered. He then let go of Harry and walked out the door just after shouting, "Draco!" to the youth. Harry found he could not move any muscles but was moving forward, his feet barely on the ground. This was how the three made up the stairs, through the corridor, along the invisible bridge and down the backward staircase to the great, ornately carved oak doors.  
  
The man opened them to reveal a room covered with green hangings, green carpet and silver ornaments. In the middle of the room stood a large chair, almost a bed, covered in ornate carvings and paintings of things long ago and upon this seat sat the scarlet-eyed man. He looked up when he heard them and immediately the man and the boy were kneeling, heads pressed to the floor.  
  
"Ah, Lucius." Crooned the red-eyed man, "And Draco. Thankyou for retrieving the boy. You are dismissed." Both of the kneeling males stood, bowed and strode out the doors, closing them with a thud. Immediately Harry dropped to the floor, whatever power the man had used to keep him suspended in air obviously did not work when he left the space immediately surrounding the suspended.  
  
"Get up!" Barked the red-eyed, slit-nosed man. Harry painfully struggled to his feet, all the while glaring hatefully at the abomination of a man. "Now called me old-fashioned but I believe in introductions. So, I'm the Dark Lord Voldemort, Grand Practitioner of the Dark Arts, Leader of the Great Army of Darkness and the Heir of Slytherin. And you.?" The man looked pointedly at Harry.  
  
Harry however had different plans and as the man had been talking had edged closer to the door, hoping he had a chance to keep quite and unnoticeable. However, this failed when Voldemort, as he said, had asked him his name. Harry decided to remain ostensibly silent and continue to glare.  
  
"And you are obviously not going to answer so let me," Said the Dark Lord. "You're Harry Potter, are 13 years of age, formerly lived at Walgirfin Orphanage and had a crush on Violet Marksonet." Harry stared at him. No one knew about his crush on Violet, not even his best friend. Of course, Violet was his best friend.  
  
"See Harry, I know more about you than anyone you've ever known. Oh, and the door only opens in response to charms only myself and a few others know so don't bother." Harry froze, than he turned and ran at the door, smashing into it and hitting it with his fists and praying it would open. Miraculously it did and Harry stumbled into the corridor beyond. He dashed away, in the opposite direction from which he had come, he wanted to be able to get away from the dungeons and red-eyed man and didn't care if he got lost doing it. 


End file.
